


Remembrance

by NimDamy



Series: Two Faces, Same Shield [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Birthday, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimDamy/pseuds/NimDamy
Summary: When Steve had asked “So, any plans for tomorrow?”, he’d just shrugged, rummaging through the cupboards in search of something edible that needed the least amount of preparation.“Sleep, coffee and more time in the shop to redo the armour, preferably in that order, unless, you know, the world needs our expertise."
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Series: Two Faces, Same Shield [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658725
Kudos: 17
Collections: Tony's Birthday Party (PotsCast)





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the TFSS universe, happening in the first year after Steve joins the Avengers.

It was nothing more than a slip of the tongue, Tony would later on argue with himself. Surely, Steve wouldn’t read too much into it.

But it was late at night, or, possibly, very very early in the morning, and Tony had just stumbled out of the workshop after a two-day binge, still riding the high of finally figuring out how to reduce the mass-to-volume ratio of the armour plating without compromising its integrity and he’d never been good at keeping track of the date anyway, that’s why he had JARVIS for, so it was understandable that, when Steve had asked “So, any plans for tomorrow?”, he’d just shrugged, rummaging through the cupboards in search of something edible that needed the least amount of preparation.

“Sleep, coffee and more time in the shop to redo the armour, preferably in that order, unless, you know, the world needs our expertise,” he’d replied. 

He was currently debating between a bag of rice chips and pop-tarts, so he didn’t catch the face Steve pulled at his answer, which, in turn, caused him to write Steve’s question off as the guy still getting used to working with the team Nick and his posse had dubbed ‘the Avengers’. 

Which, in and of itself, made no sense, because, if they did their job right (which they did), well, there would be absolutely no need for avenging anything.

Tony had made it a point to bring this up in every single team meeting/debrief which included Nick, to the man’s ever growing displeasure (betrayed only by the slightest tick of his remaining eye, and, as much as Tony loved to mess with the guy, he was not suicidal enough to press the issue of how, exactly, had Nick been turned into a pirate. Again.), but then again, Tony had always been a little shit when it came to authority figures. 

“Why you asking, kiddo, you got any big plans for tomorrow?” he shot at Steve, opening a bag of rice chips (the blue-bag ones, that only he and, occasionally, Bruce preferred over the green-bag ones that the others liked), and upending them into a bowl. He then shrugged and added a pack of pop-tarts before making his way towards the elevator.

“I’m 28, you know, not quite a kid anymore,” Steve shot back. “Besides, i think we’ve been past the ‘kiddo’ stage since, hmm... March 2001, don’t you?”

“Sure, Stevie, whatever you say…” Tony sleepily waved at him as the elevator doors closed and JARVIS, ever the sweetheart, took him up to the penthouse.

He got exactly a third of the chips and half a pop-tart in his system before he collapsed on his bed, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Did Tony really have no idea what I was talking about?”

“As far as my analysis goes, sir was indeed oblivious as to what, exactly, your enquiry implied.”

“So you mean to tell me that Tony Stark, the one guy who is always the life of every party and/or event he attends, has no idea that tomorrow is his birthday?”

“Indeed, it appears so. However, I feel obliged to add that the last time sir did indeed remember and celebrate his birthday as more than the scheduled tweet, was before Colonel Rhodes was deployed.”

“JARVIS, when exactly was that?”

“If my memory serves me right… five years ago, Captain.”

“Five… five years?”

“Yes.”

“JARVIS… call a silent assemble. However, leave Tony out, please.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Five years, what the hell, Tony... fucking five years…”

* * *

There was a bright light shining in his eyes and Tony groaned as he pulled his pillow over his head.

“J, buddy, why are the lights on?”

“Because you have yet to determine how to get the sun to shut down, sir, would be my best guess,” the AI replied and, not for the first time, Tony wished he could go back in time and remove the three-to-ninety lines of code that ended up determining JARVIS’ sarcasm.

There was something else about his statement that got the genius’ attention and made the last remnants of sleep leave him. 

“Yeah, that would make sense, if the windows of the penthouse wouldn’t be facing west, J...”

“Sir, it is 3 PM, May 29th. You have been asleep for close to thirteen hours following your 46 hour binge in the workshop. May I also use this opportunity to wish you happy birthday, and may you have many more.”

Tony groaned again, wishing he could just go back to sleep. Hopefully, the next time he’d wake up, at least another 24 hours would have passed. He made a noncommittal gesture at the ceiling. 

“Thanks, bud. I assume you already dealt with the social media?”

“Of course, sir.” Of course, how rude of Tony to assume otherwise. 

“Good, good. Well, since the physics of the solar system are refusing to let me go back to sleep, might as well go back to the ‘shop and finish up the new armour plating, whaddya think, bud?” Hopefully, he’d be able to lose himself in the work and just completely ignore the rest of the world. 

The AI was silent, but Tony did not need his approval, not really, and if there was one day he could allow himself to just ignore everything, well, it was today.

There was still a small voice in his head, a voice that sounded way too similar to Aunt Peggy’s that he couldn't quite ignore, telling him that Jarvis would not want him to blame himself for what happened, and that the man knew the risks and that he had chosen to go on the plane regardless and that, well, heart attacks were not the worst way to go, when it comes to it, especially since Jarvis had fallen asleep in his seat… peaceful and painless, the coroner had called it. A blessing, all things considered.

It didn’t feel that way to Tony though.

So he did what he did every time May 29th rolled around for the last five years and he headed down to the workshop, blasting AC/DC loud enough that it would, hopefully, drown out all his thoughts.

* * *

It was (probably) a few hours later, when JARVIS lowered the volume of the music. Tony looked up from where he was working, lifting the welding mask from his face. 

“J, buddy, I thought that we had agreed to not mess with the music today.” He shot the ceiling a disapproving look.

“I apologise, Sir. But Captain Rogers has requested access to the workshop. As far as I am aware, we are not currently under lockdown protocol, however, considering the other… circumstances, I believed it best to ask you before allowing the Captain inside.” There was something in the way JARVIS chose his words that pulled at Tony’s mind, but he dismissed it after a second or so. After all, why would he do anything to endanger Tony?

“Sure, bud, let him in. Might as well. Maybe he just wants to see the new uniform, right?”

* * *

Steve did not, in fact, want to see the new uniform. 

No, Steve wanted to take Tony out of the ‘shop and up to the common floor, where, somehow, unbeknownst to the engineer, he and the rest of the Avengers had managed to organise a surprise party for his birthday.

Tony had been greeted by the small group of agents yelling ‘Surprise! Happy birthday!’ as soon as the elevator doors opened. 

Somehow, he managed to plaster a smile on his face, say the appropriate phrases and spend a grand total of 10 minutes with the rest of them.

“... so, what can I say, I hope you’ll like the cake. Chocolate and salted caramel,” Steve said in Tony’s general direction.

“Sorry,” Tony said, standing up from where he’d been nursing a glass of something alcoholic that Natasha had mixed. “I have to go.”

“What?”

But Tony didn’t look back to see the confused look on Steve’s face, nor did he notice Clint exchange a look with Natasha. No, he just headed back to the elevator and JARVIS had enough sense to close the doors before anybody could follow him. 

“Workshop.” Tony pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the door.

He could feel his eyes stinging and his hands were beginning to shake ever so slightly, but as soon as the doors opened again, he tightened his fists and squared his shoulders. 

“Full blackout protocol, J. I don’t care if the fucking world is ending.”

“Sir, I apolo...”

“Mute.” The workshop was plunged into silence.

Tony put his welding mask back on. He picked the electrode holder back up. 

His hand was still shaking.

He threw the tool as far away from him as he could. Then he shut his eyes tight and leaned forward a little, bracing his hands on the worktable in front of him. He forced himself to take deep, if not perfectly even breaths which he let out through clenched teeth.

He blinked his eyes open and took a look at the jumbled mess on the table in front of him, with various parts of the suit and miscellaneous blueprints all mixed together. 

It took him no more than one sharp movement to throw everything on the ground. A startled beeping sound made him look up, to where DUM-E was, fire extinguisher clutched tightly in his claw. Claw which was shaking, almost in perfect synchrony with his own hands. 

Tony took a few steps backwards. His back hit the wall. 

He eased himself to sit down on the floor, legs suddenly too weak to keep him up any longer.

Tony hugged his knees to his chest and let his forehead rest on top.

And, for the first time in five years, Tony Stark let himself cry on the evening of his birthday.

* * *

He was still sitting down, leaning against the wall, head tilted back and eyes closed tight when the doors to the shop  _ whooshed _ open. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t all that curious to see just who had come to bother opening his eyes, but, damn it, even after so many years he couldn’t quite forget the sound Steve’s feet made. And, just for this one instant in time, he hated himself for never really letting go, not fully, to those precious few months from back in 2001…

Steve sat down next to him, close enough that he could feel his body heat but not enough to actually touch.

For a while, they stood in silence.

“Tony, I…” Steve began, but he held out a hand to stop him.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Steve. It’s not your fault. So don’t even try.”

Then they were silent again. Whether it was hours that passed like that, or merely minutes, Tony couldn’t tell. But he owed Steve an explanation. If for nothing else, then at least for the time they had spent together, for the companionship and the brotherhood they were rediscovering now.

“The reason I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore has absolutely nothing to do with you or whatever else is going through your head right now,” Tony said at last. “I… it’s not something that was ever released to the public, now that i think about it. Or, at least, not in the manner almost everything going on in my life has been. It’s… umm… you… you remember Jarvis? Edwin, not the AI…”

“I... yeah, I do. Grandma Peggy called me a few days after he passed away,” Steve replied. “He was a good friend to both her and Grandpa.”

“Well, the part she probably didn’t tell you is just how exactly it happened. It was about five years ago, on May 27th. And Edwin Jarvis died of a heart attack mid-flight from England to the US, specifically, to California, where he had been invited in order to join me and Pepper and a few other close friends for my birthday.” By the time he said the last few words, his voice was barely above a whisper. “He had a heart condition, you know? I had no idea. None. and yet, he refused to stay home. It’s a risk, by the way, to travel long distances by plane when you have heart problems.” 

“Tony, I’m so sorry, I had no idea…”

“Told you, not your fault. I’m telling you this so you know that it’s not some phase, or an eccentricity, Steve. I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore because, the last time I did, I lost the closest thing to a father that I had.” It felt final, somehow, to say it out loud after all this time. Unescapable. But also freeing. 

Steve was silent next to him. 

"I refuse to lose anyone else over something like this ever again," Tony added, voice soft enough that he wasn't really sure whether Steve heard. 

But the man just reached out his arm and brought Tony close to his chest in a tight embrace. 

Tony had thought that he was out of tears. But held tight, knowing that he faced no judgement, only understanding and support, once again embraced in the familiar comfort of Steve's arms, the last of his walls seemed to crumble and, once again, he was crying. Ugly crying, with loud sobs and snot and full body shudders. 

And through it all, Steve was, once again, a solid rock. Certain. Unshakeable. 

At last, the sobs subsided, even though tears kept flowing freely down his face. 

He wanted to hide his face forever in Steve's shirt, even though it was now wet from tears and sweat and other questionable fluids, but then there was a soft tap on his shoulder and a slender hand was holding out a box of tissues in his direction and suddenly the rest of the Avengers were there, sitting in a loose circle on the workshop floor. 

Clint had two beers in his hands, one of which he passed to Steve. As soon as he crumpled the used tissue, Natasha poured Tony a glass of something and set it down in front of him. Tony picked it up and sipped at the drink, something strong and tasting weirdly like vanilla. 

"Back in college, I had a biochemistry professor," Bruce began, after taking a long sip from his own glass. "After the first exam, he asked me to stay behind. For the life of me, I can't remember what the exam questions were, but I remember how this man took one look at my paper, then one look at me, and he told me 'Boy, your brain, your thinking process, it's one in a million. You will change the world one day, just you wait and see.' He was in his sixties, by then. Getting close to retirement. But he was impressed by this one student, and took me under his wing. I learned more from prof Randall in the next few years than from the rest of my classes combined. And after I graduated and he retired, we kept in touch. Met up every other week for tea and to catch him up on my research. He passed away in his sleep one night. Brain aneurysm. No warning. I never got to say goodbye, or tell him just how much he meant to me. But, over the years, I learned to cherish the memories of his life rather than mourning his death." The scientist lifted his glass in the air before downing the drink. Natasha reached out and squeezed his hand. 

Clint set his bottle down next. 

"My dad was the town drunk. At 10, my brother Barney and I ran away and joined the circus, so I never had a good example of how a normal, balanced family should work. Years later, I met Laura and we got married and suddenly, I had a family which I was supposed to visit for the holidays and spend time with and all I could think of was that soon enough, the other shoe will drop. 

"It never did. Laura's parents were reticent at first, after all, their only daughter had decided to marry an ex-carnie with hearing problems and a damn long criminal record. But then they just took me in, accepted me as I was and helped me become a better man. Her dad, especially. He taught me how to fish. And how to golf. And, most of all, he taught me how to be a dad myself. Passed on three years ago. Cancer. I still miss him, and it still hurts like hell. But I see him in my own kids and I can only hope to be half the man he was and teach them everything he taught me."

Tony joined the others in the silent toast that followed. 

"Uncle Monty, that is James Montgomery Falsworth, was a second father to me," Steve added after a while. "He lived in the next house over from ours, back in England. I spent almost as many days in that home as I did in ours. It helped that his own grandson, Jason, is only a few months older than me. We grew up together, best buddies and all that. Uncle Monty taught me how to play backgammon and how to always have an exit strategy from any situation. He was on his way home one evening when he passed. Drunk driver." 

Tony felt more than saw Steve take a drink, and he echoed the movement. He'd met Monty Falsworth too and the man had always had a kind word and a new idea for Tony to try out. 

Once again, silence fell, but it was somehow soft, an offering to those they had lost and those they still had.

Natasha took a drink straight from the bottle of the vanilla-flavoured alcohol. 

"Her name was Yelena and she was the closest thing I had to a sister," she said, voice trembling slightly. "They made us fight, for there could only be one Widow. I was the Widow of that generation." She did not need to say anything more, and Clint reached out and brought her in a tight hug. 

Tony was the first to raise his glass in the air after her confession. The others joined soon enough. 

The engineer looked around himself, at this rag-tag crew gathered there, on the cold hard floor of his workshop, opening up about their own losses and their wounds and it was pulling at something inside himself, at that part of him he had believed to have been buried with Jarvis, years ago. 

"Edwin Jarvis was more of a father to me than Howard ever was. He taught me everything, from how to shave to how to talk to other people. And he did it all with so much love and patience…" He went to take a drink, only to find his glass empty. Natasha gestured to him and refilled the glass. The vanilla flavour was strangely comforting. "He died of a heart attack, on the flight to come and celebrate my birthday five years ago. The coroner said it was quick and painless and a blessing, all things considered. I found that last part hard to believe."

He lifted his glass and the others replied in kind. 

Nobody said any words, they didn't apologise or offer condolences, they simply stood in silence and toasted to lives well lived and people taken too soon from them.

And maybe it would be a long time until then, but, looking at the people gathered, at Bruce with his cooling tea mug, at Clint red-eyed and covered in band-aids, holding a slightly shaking Natasha, at Steve for once letting the strong and stoic front and at his own still-shaking hands, Tony was starting to believe that, maybe, one day, they would heal from their unseen hurts. 

Together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write something fluffy for Tony’s birthday. I promise I tried.  
> I ended up with this angsty mess.  
> Well, the heart writes what it wants...  
> I hope you enjoyed this, remember to take all your feelings, suggestions, reactions and any other related things to the box below :)  
> Stay safe and sane, y'all!


End file.
